Catching Sparks
by Elefuntastic
Summary: Takes place during Catching Fire SPOILERS!DON'T READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ CATCHING FIRE!A look at everyone's dreams and how they handle\react to them...kinda. Summary is stupid, but the idea is interesting, I promise.
1. Katniss

**TAKES PLACE IN CHAPTER 14 (STARTS ON PAGE 192)**

**IN CATCHING FIRE. I OWN NOTHING.**

Lost in my thoughts about the other victor tributes, Peeta's voice startles me. 'Why don't you get some sleep?" he says. _Because I can't handle the nightmares. Not without you,_ I think. They are sure to be dreadful tonight. But I can hardly ask Peeta to come sleep with me. We've barely touched since that night Gale was whipped. "What are you going to do?" I ask.

"Just review my notes a while," he says as he holds up his note book on the remaining living victors, "Get a clear picture of what we're up against. Go to bed Katniss." He finishes, turning his head from me to his notes. There was once a time when he would have watched me leave until I was out of sight, but now my departure is ignored.

Of course, I'm being selfish again. How can I be upset with the way his feelings for me have changed when I never even requited them? He has every right to be as distant and cold to me as he wants off camera. He has that right on camera, too, but he's so decent he plays along like we're in love when it's so obvious to me that I have hurt him.

My thoughts of Peeta take me straight to my bed, where I change out of my clothes and, for the first time, into a silky night gown. The silk is a shimmery golden color; smooth and light like Prim's hair when I brush it out. This comparison gives me a small bit of comfort as I shut of my lights with a shaky hand and climb into my bed in the foreboding darkness.

Though I have no desire to sleep, my eyelids become heavy the moment my head hits the pillow. I force my eyes to track the slow rotation of the ceiling fan about me and my thoughts shift from Prim, the sister I have released, to Gale, the boy I can't seem to let go of. The boy I love.

But how do I love him? The same way he claims to love me? I don't know, but it doesn't matter because I'll never see him again. One day he will move on, marry one of the girls that squeal whenever he walks past them, and forget all about me. This thought hurts for reasons I don't fully understand, but it's for the best. I fall asleep picturing Gales wedding to Liena Phovos, a girl who was in my school year back at the district who used to doodle hearts with Gale's name o\in them on every assignment.

The first day of the games has come and gone and I search for Peeta, my only ally, in the arena. I walk along a river bed, quietly calling my fiancés name. I strategically place my feet as to not make any unnecessary noise and smile to myself as I recall that Peeta is incapable of walking without announcing his presence to everything in a twenty-yard radius. I step lightly around a small puddle and my foot comes down on something a bit more solid than the slippery mud I've been walking on. Whatever it is I have stepped on grunts softly in response to my foot's contact, and I jump back, immediately training an arrow on the spot.

A pair of grey eyes, much like my own, peer up at me from the mud and a familiar smiling mouth tells me to lower my weapon.

"Gale?" I ask, shock overwhelming my thoughts. It's unmistakable now, that his muddy blob before me is my friend from District Twelve. Somehow I know this makes no sense. Gale shouldn't be here in the games, but somehow he is_. Why is he here_ I ask my self. Before I can verbalize the question, his mouth opens again to speak.

"Catnip?" he says weakly. His is expertly camouflaged in the river bed, as if he is part of it, a strange Mud-man Muttation. I drop my bow and arrow beside him and reach down to help him up. He wavers unsteadily as he stands, taking a pained leap forward rather than simply taking a step.

"What's happened to you?" I ask.

"One of the Careers happened to me. Cato, I think." He says, wincing as he takes another leap forward. I stoop down to examine his favored leg, and he places his hands on my back for balance. His leg shows a large cut, dried blood crawling down the sides from a multi-colored, bulging wound. The severe leg wound, the river bed, the camouflage…this all seems familiar, like dejavu, but I can't seem to concentrate hard enough to figure out why. I give up and straighten.

"We need to get this cleaned right away, but first we need to find a safe place to treat it, out of the open." I say. Just as I am about to stumble into the woods with Gale, the welcoming scent of fresh bread and oil paints, the scent that so often lingers on Peeta, fills my nostrils, and I am not startled when a firm arm rests gently around my shoulders. I lean my head against his strong chest. _Finally_, I think, _something that makes sense._ Together, Peeta and I help Gale across the river to a patch of berry bushes. I inspect the berries closely, hoping they are safe enough for us to eat, and find that they are. I extend some, first to Gale, and then to Peeta.

"Thank you." Gale says, and when I turn my head to nod at him, he's gone. Once again, I find it hard to concentrate on how this is impossible. Instead, I cram the remaining berries into my mouth and rise. Peeta follows my lead, taking my hand. I start to trudge along, but Peeta stops me, placing both hands on either side of my face. My eyes and heart flutter momentarily as I anticipate Peeta's lips on mine, and the wait is quickly over.

This kiss is more passionate, more natural than many of our others, and as so rarely happens, something stirs in my stomach; something indescribable. It feels right and I kiss him back, meeting his passion. The moment is ruined as a violent pain courses throughout my body, its origin inches from where my stomach had been stirring pleasantly. I whimper abruptly and pull away from Peeta, staggering backwards. I'm finished, I have been found and now I must fall to hands of the other tributes. I only hope that Peeta can run; that he can make it. I look up into his eyes and let out a blood curdling scream as he falls to the ground, a hole stabbed right through his stomach. As he falls, he reveals our attacker behind him. Gale stands before me, cleaning blood—Peeta's and my blood—off of a spear head. Gale is the one who stabbed me. Gale is the one who stabbed me _through_ Peeta like a skewer. His head snaps up at my scream and he drops his weapon—a spear that brings my thoughts, however fleetingly, to Rue--as I fall to forest floor, unable to hold myself up any longer.

"No!" Gale cries. He kneels down and flicks his hands over my wound, unsure of what do to. I kick out violently at him, catching him in the chest and sending him backwards. I crawl desperately towards Peeta, and pull him into my lap, cradling his head.

"No! Katniss, no! I'm so sorry! I only meant to eliminate my competition! I didn't mean to hurt you!" Gale snivels behind me.

"Peeta!" I scream, ignoring the other boy. No response. I shake him gently, calling his name several more times, completely consumed with the fear that he is already gone. I don't even keep track of where my former friend Gale is, unconcerned for my safety as I watch Peeta slowly slip away from me. My gray eyes, so much like those of a traitor; a killer, find Peeta's angelic blue ones, but they don't see me. I quickly realize that Peeta sees nothing. That I am the last thing he ever saw, and when I finally comprehend this, I screech once more in agony.

I startle awake, my right hand clutches my stomach where the hole was, my left searches my bed for Peeta. My hand finds him and I am quickly caught up in his embrace.

"It's okay! It was just a bad dream." He shushes me. I push away from him and inspect what little of his body I can make out in the darkness. He's wearing a simple yet comfortable looking pair of linen pants and little more. I grab his hand and drag him out of the bed, then fumble with the light switch. Blinding light sends bursts of color across my vision as my eyes adjust to the brightness, but the moment I can see I walk frantic circles around Peeta. I don't dare look at his face because I know I must seem crazy, but I can't help myself. I find myself gently probing his stomach and back where the spear would have gone through every few rotations. After about a solid minute of this, Peeta takes my hand and pulls me around to face him.

"What did you dream that has you so…shaken? You've never been this way before." He says gently as he massages my hand in his. I take a deep breath, prepared to explain it all to him calmly, but at the last moment I burst into pained sobs as I remember his blank stare from my nightmare.

"We were in the arena and…someone…speared me _through _you. You died in my arms, Peeta. I held you as you bled to death. Your eyes! Oh! Your eyes were so empty! They just stared! You were peaceful but eerie and stiff and in so much pain and I couldn't do anything and nothing made sense except for when I was with you and then, just like that, you were gone!" I know I'm not making much sense, but I couldn't hold it in. It's as if something has taken over in me, some insecure force that drives me to tell him all my fears and feelings. I look up to see he is staring at me with eyes that are so alive I almost forget what they looked like dead.

"Katniss, it's okay. I'm right here, I'm safe. You're safe. It was just a dream." He places a welcomed hand on my face, whipping my tears away with his thumb. Before I can stop myself, I throw myself around him, hugging him far too tight. He hugs me back with equal force and impossibly, I feel like I'm home.

"Thank you." I mumble into his shoulder. I'm calming down and my tears fall more reverently, allowing me to form my words more normally. Peeta pulls his face from my hair and kisses my neck tenderly before pulling away to look at me.

"My pleasure." Is all he says.

"You came to me tonight."

"I came in to make sure you were getting some sleep and you were calling my name, so I stayed." He whispers. Only now do I realize how loud I've been when this is a train full of people who are trying to sleep.

"I'm sorry", I say, " you didn't have to stay."

"I wanted to."

"Oh, good, I…I missed this. And you." I say sheepishly, knowing full well how ridiculous that must sound to him. He probably thinks I'm lying again, but I'm not. Not this time.

"I missed you too. It's hard, for me, to be away from you." He says, and I feel like such a wretch. How can I take advantage of him like this? It's obvious now that his feelings for me never changed; I just hurt him so badly that he hid them from me. Am I that ruthless? Is this why I won the games, because I will do whatever it takes to get whatever it is I think I need? What do I say now? I don't have time to plan a safe response before my mouth volunteers it's own.

"It's hard for me too, sometimes." I say. 'Sometimes'? How awful! At least I was honest though. Peeta, however, seems to appreciate my honesty too, because he smiles at me.

"I know", he says, "and things have just been a little awkward since…"

"Gale." I finish simply, and the image of Gale cleaning Peeta's blood off of his spear makes me close the distance between Peeta and I again, hugging him for the millionth time tonight. I can't believe how safe I feel in his arms.

"How do you feel about him?" Peeta asks me as he strokes artful designs across my back with his strong fingers. Normally this question would be rude and inconsiderate, but Peeta deserves to know.

To be honest, I don't know. I know that I love him, but I don't know to what extent. We've been friends and nothing more for what seems like a life time. I have never sensed a romantic element to our relationship, but then it's also become obvious that I am incredibly ignorant. Gale is home and practically family, but there is something there, I just don't know what it is. Peeta looks down at his feet in a sad, disappointed way, and I know I must answer soon before I hurt him again.

"The truth is, I don't know. I don't know how I feel about him, or you. But I do know that sometimes, when we kiss, just sometimes, there is a—a spark is how I guess I'd describe it—in my stomach that feels good and right. I know I feel safe with you, in your arms. You make me smile and you know me so well and I'm so fortunate to know you, too. I know that it hurts me to hurt you and I miss you when we're not close. I know that I care for you, even if I don't know how much. I know that in some way… I love you…" I finish feebly, hoping that I have not just made things worse; that I have not just hurt him with my confusing explanation.

I look up at him and for a moment he holds my gaze, and then, before I know what's happening, his hand is around the back of my neck and his is kissing me as passionately as in my dream, and my body responds to match his. The spark in my stomach is stronger than ever and I can hardly breathe when we pull away.

"Spark?" he asks. I angle myself away from him, embarrassed. I nod. I barely glimpse a close-up of his smile before his lips are upon mine again. The spark in my stomach builds to a steady flame, as if we are feeding it. I lose my head and throw my arms around his neck, thinking of nothing but the moment. He pulls away before I do this time and my hands instinctively find my stomach and I unconsciously pluck at the silky fabric of my night gown.

"Spark this time?" he asks as a playful smile stretches across his face. He is enjoying this entirely too much. Or is he? How would I know, I've never felt like this before. I bring my hands from my night gown to his shoulders.

"More like a small fire." I say, shocked at my honesty, but hoping to be rewarded with another mind blowing kiss.

"How appropriate, Girl On Fire." He says as be pulls me into him, kissing me again and again and again…

**END**


	2. Peeta

**THIS IS HOW I IMAGINE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN IN KATNISS HAD EVER THOUGHT TO SNEAK INTO PEETA'S ROOM TO HELP HIM THROUGH HIS NIGHTMARES. I OWN NOTHING! (Also, this is not a continuation of "Katniss", it is just a different experience.)**

I am the only one awake on the whole train. Haymitch passed out a few hours ago, and he sits next to me in the compartment that has one of the most comfortable couches I have ever lounged on. He twitches now and then, moaning slightly as he undoubtedly remembers the faces and screams of the tributes he faced so many years ago. I fear that I am destined to remember them until I am much older than Haymitch is.

Effie went to bed a few hours ago, mentioning something about "beauty sleep". Peeta literally fell asleep at the dinner table, and when woken up by a concerned Portia, stumbled down the hall to his room. I think it's because he hasn't been sleeping well. Cinna and Portia both retired to their respective beds after desert was served. And here I sit, unable to sleep. This is the third night that insomnia has claimed me, and I have nothing to do but sit and wait for dawn to break so I can creep to my room, unmake my bed, tussle my hair, and pretend that I slept soundly all night.

However, being that I am bored beyond words, I get up and walk down the hall. I pass Peeta's room and am just at my door before doubling back. Peeta always thinks to check on me, but I've never been there to silence his fears. I silently open his door and walk hesitantly inside. I feel so invasive, coming into his sleeping quarters without his knowledge or permission, but I know he won't mind. I slowly creep to the vacant side of his bed and slip under the covers. Propping myself up on a pillow, I angle myself so that I can watch him, looking for signs of distress.

He sleeps so soundly, I begin to wonder if he will have any nightmares at all, or if he was too tired to dream of anything. Impossibly, I begin to nod off. Is it possible that Peeta makes all things in my life right? I have not slept a wink in three nights and now, beside him, I feel like I could sleep for a week and not stir. I feel my eyes flutter closed and allow the hands of slumber to slowly pull me down into a deep rest, but a small sound rouses me before I can drift off completely. I look down on Peeta's resting figure, and see that his mouth is caught up in some sort of grimace. I realize that his jaw is pulled back in either pain or fear…or both, and I search underneath the covers for his hand. Finding it, I hold it softly, rubbing my thumb over the top of his hand. He responds by gripping my hand tightly, and the small sound he made earlier escapes from his clenched teeth. It's a cross between a moan and a growl, but still so small it's no wonder he has never woken me when he has nightmares.

Noticing the sheen of sweat that has appeared on his forehead and above his lip, I reach over, the sleeve of my shirt over my hand, and gently rub the sweat away. His face looks truly pained now, and his entire body becomes rigid. He squeezes my hand tighter still, and his mannerisms seem to indicate the peak of his nightmare. I begin to quietly say his name, caressing his face with my free hand, shushing him gently, hoping to dull the effects of whatever he is seeing. It comes to mind to sing him Prims lullaby, the one that I used to hum to her whenever she dreamed of mine explosions, dead fathers and a cold mother. I hum bits of it to him now, stroking his hair as my melody reaches his ears. He seems to be, for the moment, calming down, and I sigh in relief as the song ends. Maybe the worst is over; maybe he can rest easy now.

Of course, I'm wrong, and the arm of his free hand strikes out violently off of the side of the bed. The moaning growl forms a word, over and over, silently.

"No…no…no!" he says, still quiet enough that if I had been asleep I would not have heard him. His nightmare has apparently reached its climax as he grips my hand the tightest yet, making me wince in pain, but I don't try to pry my hand from his, because I know he needs this. After a moment though it's all I can do not to whimper in pain, and I try to wake him. I hear it's not good to wake someone from a nightmare, because they will only dream it again the next night, but Peeta is destined to dream this dream every night for the rest of his life regardless, so I shake his shoulders gently and call out his name. He jerks awake, throwing himself into the sitting position, nearly hitting his head against mine as I try to balance myself next to him. He takes a moment to realize where he is, and when he does, he turns to me.

Before I can explain to him why I am in his room, why I have woken him, he hurriedly pulls me into his lap and holds me.

"Oh, I dreamt I'd lost you, Katniss. I lose you every night…" he whispers to me, holding me tightly, as if reassuring himself that I really am here.

"It's okay, Peeta. You didn't lose me. I'm right here, and I'm fine, aside from my sever lack of oxygen…" I said, refereeing to the fact that in his desperation, he was hugging me too tightly. He adjusted his arms, allowing in much more air, but still held me.

"_You_ came to _me_ this time." He said into my hair.

"It was about time I returned the kindness." He laughed at this, and slowly set me aside so he could get up. He walked clumsily to his bathroom, and the sound of a running sink told me he was washing his face. When he came back, I had straightened his pillows.

"It's almost three in the morning; you should get back to sleep." I told him.

"Will you stay?" He asked, almost in a panicked voice, but he adjusted his tone to be somewhat nonchalant.

"Only if you want me—"

"I do." He cut me off. I smiled at him, and excused myself momentarily to change into something that I could sleep in. When I returned, he was sitting up, as if he had been waiting impatiently for me.

"Must have been some nightmare…" I said to him as I climbed into his bed.

"It was. You told me you didn't want me; that you wished you'd never met me…" he said, no hesitance in his voice. He was always so open about his feelings for me. I settled myself into the crook of his shoulder.

"That would never be the case, Peeta." I said to him. I looked up just in time to see sparks dance across his eyes, a smile on his face, before he kissed the top of my head and was engulfed in sweet, dreamless sleep.


	3. Gale

I OWN NOTHING. THIS IS GALES NIGHTMARE.

An angry spark ignites in my stomach as I watch her hang all over him. I wouldn't even be watching if I wasn't in love with her, which is ridiculous since it's obvious she has feelings for him, so why do I care? Oh, right, I'm her friend and she has no idea that I have spent the last four years pinning for her. I'm such a coward, if I had told her how I felt four years ago, instead of just recently, maybe things would be different now. I didn't though, so now I have to sit here and pray I don't lose my lunch all over the closest television set for three miles.

When I see the way she looks at him as he makes some pansy speech about how the tributes of District 7 were brave and "fine adversaries", I have to excuse myself from the room. She admires him, maybe even loves him, though she claims she doesn't know. How can she not know how she feels about someone? I may not be an expert, but it seems to me that when you're in love with someone, they become you're world. Everything they do makes you want to hold them and never let them go.

Like when Katniss moves her hair behind her ears when she's getting ready to take a shot with her bow, or the way her lips perk up in a small smile every time Prim asks her about her father. Even the way she speaks, so unsure of herself sometimes, but always willing to speak up, makes me want her even more. And she has no idea that she does this to me. I peek back into Greasy Sae's sitting room where a few families, including my own, have gathered to watch Katniss and…him parade around the districts. The angry spark returns when she laces her fingers in his when the depart, and I decide to head home early.

I trudge through the snow, remembering the time Katniss and I spent a day last winter helping our siblings make snow men. When I came out from inside where I had been finding a spare scarf and a carrot nose, she had made a small wall and stationed my brothers behind it, armed with snow balls. They pelted me with frozen balls of pain for ten minutes before they finally ran out. Normally I would have been irritated with that sort of childish thing from someone younger than me, but since it was Katniss, it was charming, cute even.

I shake my head free of the memory and breathe deeply, allowing the cold air to push my feelings for her to the side. She doesn't love me like that, it's obvious. I might as well accept it now, because she'll probably marry him, and then I'll have to kill him, and that could all get very messy. I take a detour on my way home, under the "electrical" fence, and walk into the forest to check my traps. It's getting cold, so I run to get my body heat up.

Why would she choose him? He can't hunt like me, he's not strong like me, and aside from the money that he "earned" for "winning" the games, he could never provide for her the way I could. I wonder all these things as I run deeper and deeper into the forest. Her with him is like a living nightmare, and the whole idea of it must have distracted me pretty badly since I don't notice that I'm running head first into a low tree branch until it's too late.

My head throbs, the pain giving me permission to stay asleep, but the voice of an angel pulls me to the surface. She calls my name, pulling on my hand, asking me to get up. I open my eyes and she is inches from my face.

"Gale, it's time to get up." She says. I must be dreaming, she can't be here, she's off on tour with…him.

"Yeah, it's time to get up, buddy. We have a big day ahead of us what with the wedding and all…" Another voice says. I sit bolt upright and see that "him"—I can't even think his name --is standing behind her. His speech is slow and it seems to be hard for him to talk. I laugh to myself as I picture him trying to give a speech at another district; stumbling over his words.

"What wedding?" I ask thickly, knowing how stupid I must sound, but still thinking I sound more intelligent than he does.

"Our wedding." The angel says, and for a moment I think she means that she and I are getting married and my head injury made me forget, but then she straightens and kisses him passionately. When she says "our" she means "their".

"Get a room." I say angrily as their kiss deepens. They pull apart and she looks at me, blush coloring her perfect cheeks. She's embarrassed. Good, she should be to be seen with him.

"Sorry," she says, "we would have let you rest, but we really need you to be at the wedding today since you're the one who's joining us in marriage."

"I'm not joining you two in marriage." I say.

"Sure you are, buddy. You already agreed. We can't get married unless you come today." He says.

"Even better." I tell them both. I rise and start to make my way through the woods, coming across a lake I don't recognize. It's frozen over and I try to walk across it, falling flat on my tail bone.

"Careful!" the angel says. She's behind me on the snow.

"Go find your boyfriend." I snap at her as I try, in vain, to stand.

"He's my fiance, actually." She corrects me.

"Whatever." I know I shouldn't be so mean to her; that I should be happy that she's happy, but I know she won't be. He can't make her happy like I could. I finally find purchase on the slick frozen surface, and rise once more. I make it exactly two steps before I'm down again. A small, perfect hand helps me up, and when I rise, I'm staring into the most gorgeous grey eyes.

"You can't leave, Gale. We need you to marry us." She says.

"No. I'm not going to help you make the wrong choice."

"Well you're not being very friendly." She looks hurt.

"Maybe I don't want to be friends anymore, Katniss. Maybe it's all or nothing for me." I tell her, my voice more harsh than it needs to be. The ice beneath me begins to crack, giving in to my weight. I push her back and out of harms way as the ice I'm standing on breaks off from the rest and begins to float down a river I hadn't noticed before.

"Help!" I call out, knowing there is little she can do for me.

"I can't, Gale. You're abandoning me, and I can't make you stop." She cries. I jump off of the ice raft and try to paddle back to her, but the current is too strong; the water too cold, and I can't do it. I sink below the surface, and when I emerge, I'm on land.

My head throbs, and I get up, shaking the snow off of my clothes. It was all a dream, or a premonition. Either way, I walk home in a worse mood than I've been in since she took Prim's place.


	4. Madge

I OWN NOTHING. THIS IS MADGE'S STORY. IF YOU HAVE NOT READ CATCHING FIRE, IT SHOULDN'T MATTER BECAUSE THIS ONE IS A HUNGER GAMES FIC SINCE I CAN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO A DECENT STORY FOR HER FROM CATCHING FIRE.

The sun is rising above me, approaching its highest peek. Can it really be almost noon already? I don't usually sleep in this late. The smell of wood assaults my nose, and when I open my eyes, I'm in a box of some kind. Confusion makes my head hurt as I try to figure out why I'm waking in a box today, when last night I went to sleep in my bed. Before I can fully grasps what is going on, someone is speaking, interrupting my thoughts.

"She was always such a good girl; bright, kind, charming. It's hard to believe that my little angel is gone. That she will never again call for her papa, or roll her eyes at me in irritation, and that she will never again kiss me goodnight as she did just last night. How quickly she has come and gone, only sixteen when she left this world. Just one month ago I was thanking my stars that she had escaped the reaping again this year, but in a way, she has still been reaped. Still been taken from me too soon… I'm sorry, I can't go on…" the voice is that of my fathers, and I could tell that he was holding back tears through the whole speech, but now he is wailing, the sound of it becoming quieter with each step he takes as he makes his way away from my box.

This makes no sense, who has died? Why wasn't I informed? I sit up in my box and notice that everyone seems to be staring at me. They are all dressed warmly, and I notice that we are outside, somewhere between two buildings. Snow falls quietly to the ground, but I am not cold. I don't feel anything, actually. I push this thought aside and concentrate on the small crowd of people before me. My entire family is here, which isn't saying much, and only one person in the crowd isn't related to me. Katniss sits near the back of the crowd, and she appears to be comforting my father. She pats his shoulder lightly and then turns to stare at me too. I notice my mother isn't here; probably opting to stay in bed with her headache rather than send someone we know into the after life. Someone is speaking again.

"My…condition has kept me from being the mother that I should have been. This is no excuse though. My lovely, perfect daughter deserved better than what I gave her as a mother, and when I think about how I couldn't force myself from my depression long enough to get to know her better, I am disgusted with myself." My mother is speaking now. I look out to the crowd to see if anyone is as confused as I am. They all just continue to stare at me, most of them are crying. I notice, however, that they aren't staring at me, exactly, but at my box. I lean over and try to see if there is anything on the side of the box that has their, interest, but here is nothing.

My mother has stopped speaking and is now crying uncontrollably; walking towards me. This is my chance to get some information.

"Mother, what is going on? Who died?" I ask, but she says nothing. She leans past me, staring at something inside my box, and takes the Mockingjay pin from her pocket. How did she get that? I gave it to Katniss as a token last month. Oh! Oh no! Katniss died in the games and this is her funeral! My mother is giving her the pin as a parting gift and no one told me because they didn't want me to be upset. But that doesn't make sense, because Katniss is here, sitting in the back with my father. What other explanation is there? I turn my head to see what my mother is doing, and what I see makes me shriek and leap from the box before I can even register what's happened.

Lying in the box is me, or my body, at least. I seem to be disconnected from it. Frustrated tears sting my eyes and as I finally figure out whose funeral this is, and it makes no sense at all. How did I die? My fathers Eulogy, my mothers speech, the pin, my family, Katniss… it all seems to fit, but it still makes no sense. Now, Katniss gets up and I watch as my only friend in the world stands next to my coffin and begins to speak for me.

"I knew Madge nearly my whole life. She was a good friend and a good person and it pains me more than I can describe to know that she is gone. Madge always smiled at me, always made me feel like I was someone. Aside from my friend Gale, she was the only person who honestly sympathized for my father's death, and now, knowing that I will never speak to her again...I feel broken inside, but I can only hope that wherever she is now, she is happy." Katniss finishes by placing a lovely bundle of wild flowers into my coffin, stroking my cold, dead hand as she walks away.

"I'm here!" I yell, but no one can hear me. I run towards Katniss, trying to get her attention. I grab for her wrist, but my hand goes right through her. Frustrated, I let out a scream; a scream that is cut short by a sudden yanking feeling in my guy. Something is pulling me away, and in the blink of an eye, I am far from my funeral. I seem to be deep I the forest that surrounds District 12. I have never been outside the fence before, but there are no buildings, so this must be the restricted zone. Whatever was pulling me before continues to pull me, gently now.

Looking down, I realize that I am gliding inches above the ground. Eeriness comes over me, and suddenly I realize that I might not want to go wherever this force is taking me. My feet can't seem to touch the ground, no matter how hard I try, and my hand goes right though anything I try to grab in my efforts to stop my forward motion. I try to will myself in the opposite direction, but it becomes apparent that I have no special powers in death, just the foreboding unknown that waits for me at the end of this ominous journey.

And then I see him, and somehow this journey seems like a blessing. Gale stands in the middle of the forest, apparently checking traps of some kind. He takes several squirrels and a rabbit out of various snares and tosses their lifeless forms into a pile at the foot of a tree. Also at the foot of the tree is a bouquet of wild flowers that matches Katniss's, and he picks them up.

"I didn't know you that well, Madge, but I know I didn't treat you right. I blamed you for your transparent wealth, but I know now, like I knew all along, that this was not something you should have been blamed for. You were a kind person, and a friend to Katniss, and that alone should have been enough for me. I'm sorry for all the things I said and thought about you behind you're back. You deserved better, and so this is my final tribute to you…" he says, and then he neatly writes my name in the snow and places the bouquet under it. Silent tears slip from my eyes as I watch the man that I have loved, the man who never knew I was alive, grieve for me. He may not grieve the way I imagined he would if we had been married and old. He does not grieve for me like I was the most cherished thing in his world, lost forever, but he still grieves and for a moment I feel close to him.

How can this be happening to me? I don't remember dying, and I don't like it one bit. My one friend, Katniss, was already stripped from me indefinitely, but now I'm sure to never see her again, and it's already so hard to make friends when I'm the only child in District 12 who isn't starving in the streets. And the boy I love finally notices me, but only because I've been permanently erased from the world. None of this even matters anymore because I'm gone. I sit on the cold ground, not caring to know why it's the only thing I don't phase through, and weep.

When I open my eyes, they are still wet with tears, but I am somewhere else. Perhaps the force that took me to Gale has taken me here, too. But looking around, I am in my bedroom. I sit up and place my hand on the nearest wall, and a spark of awareness rushes through my being. It was all a dream, I'm not really dead. A smile spreads across my face and I feel myself smile. The day light is breaking, and I know that if I leave now, I might be able to catch him before he has to leave for the mines. Grabbing my coat with one hand, I write my father a note with my other, detailing where I will be.

A twenty minute walk takes me to his house just as he is closing his front door.

"Madge." He says, surprise coloring his tone.

"Yes, sorry to just show up, but I wonder if I could walk you to work? I've been thinking a lot about Katniss, and I just really need to talk to someone who understands." I say, hoping that he doesn't think I'm being rude by mentioning her when her name is considered taboo in the district.

"I… I would like that." He says, and he smiles as the takes my arm and we head down to the mines, all the while sharing stories about our mutual fiend and telling each other about how she is sure to be the victor this year.


	5. Prim

**I OWN NOTHING. NOTE: IF THERE IS EVER ANYTHING CONFUSING, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO PM ME, I WON'T BITE, I JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE THAT THE THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD COME OUT CLEAR IN MY WORK =D**

**NOTE: I WILL ALSO BE GOING THROUGH AND REPLACING CHAPTERS WITH EDITED ONES SOMETIME THIS MONTH WHEN I HAVE TIME BETWEEN SCHOOL, HOMEWORK, AND CHORES. **

**ALSO, I SUCK AT WRITING THIRD PERSON, SO…THIS MAY BE A DISASTER. BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO BE IN PRIMS HEAD, SO, WE'LL SEE.**

**Prim**

"I am  
Alone in this bed, house, and head  
And she never fixes this  
But at least she...  
I am  
Alone, in this bedroom  
She never fixes this"

~ Nails for Breakfast, Tracks for Snacks

By: Panic! At The Disco

The wind moved Prim's hair about her face, stirring her from her sleep. She looked around and saw tall grass surrounded her, and the bright sun shone down from above. The sky was the crystal blue of her mother's eyes, just a bit lighter than her own. There are few clouds, the only visible ones whisp artistically on the skies canvas, mimicking familiar patterns. Somewhere, a bird was singing, most likely a Mockingjay. Prim seemed to be in a field of sorts, and the outskirts were bordered by large trees. They grew, beautiful and strong, their trunks a deep brown like her sister's hair, and their leaves were a dark, healthy green. A pair of gray eyes peered down at her from a high branch on the nearest tree—the Mockingjay watched her, singing a heavenly tune_. I don't know where I am_, she thought, _but I wouldn't mind staying_.

Prim jump when the grass about her ankles stirred and she realize that she was not alone. She cautiously parted the grass, and found her mother lying on her back not far from the spot where Prim awoke. Her mother stretched, yawning, and her sky blue eyes opened.

"Isn't this place lovely?" she asks Prim enthusiastically, as if she came there often and was pleased to finally be sharing it with her daughter. The sound of her voice, excitement making her tone sound irreverent in this peaceful place, signaled the Mockingjay's departure, and it flapped its wings into the sunlight.

"Yes, very lovely." Prim said, feeling oddly alone even in her mother's presence. Prim didn't like to be alone with her mother for long. Whenever something sad or scary happened and Prim needed someone the most, Elizabeth drew into herself and shut all else out. She would sob for days and often become neglectful of Prim and Katniss's needs. Not that Katniss ever needed anything that she couldn't get for herself, and she always, always provided for Prim too. Even when their mother was functioning normally, Katniss was still the one who took care of Prim. Elizabeth styled Prim's hair, and made her clothes to wear. She cooked meals occasionally and tucked Prim in at night, but Katniss did everything else, from hunting for food to defending Prim at school when the other kids made fun of her small, fragile form. However, Katniss wasn't there, and Prim and Elizabeth were alone together in this strange wonderland.

The lonely feeling grew in Prim, taking over her thoughts and drowning out Elizabeth's remarks about the weather. Where is Katniss? She thought. Prim couldn't remember having seen her sister in several days. Somehow thought, she knew it was her fault. Elizabeth continued to babble on, her incoherent dribbles finally pulling Prim from her thoughts.

"I just love it here! I haven't been here in so long! Katniss just won't let me visit…" Elizabeth trailed off.

"What do you mean? You come here often?" Prim asked, not really caring.

"Why yes! I used to come here quite often. I remember the first time I came was right after your father… after he was gone. I was just so scared and so sad that I came here. This place is my sanctuary."

"This…this is where you go when you leave us?" Prim asked, finally piecing together what her mother was trying to say. This is where Elizabeth came when she checked out of the world mentally and didn't surface for days. No wonder she spent so much time here, it's beautiful and safe.

"I don't leave," Elizabeth said defensively, "I just…step out for a moment. It's like leaving the room, I'm right there. You can get me if you need me." Prim didn't have the energy to explain to her mother how wrong she was. If it was like "leaving a room" and she and Katniss could get her if they needed her, then it wouldn't be the problem that it is. As it turns out, Elizabeth's episodes take a great toll on the entire family, and it appeared as though she didn't even know she had caused so much pain. Prim sighed, frustrated with her mother, but unable to convey her feelings. This was neither the time nor the place.

Now that Prim knew where she was, stuck in her mother's imaginary sanctuary, it suddenly felt confined and depressing. As if on cue, the crystal blue sky faded to gray and thunder rolled in over the trees. The trees themselves shed all their beautiful leaves in unison, the leaves scattered in the wind, leaving the trees bare and menacing. The Mockingjay from earlier soared high above Prim and Elizabeth and issued one loud warning tune before diving for Prim. Prim shrieked and threw her arms over her head, the sleeves of her shirt being caught in the bird's talons. The bird flapped its wings mightily, and appeared to be trying to take flight with Prim in its grasp. It sang out once more, a desperate cry, beating its wings faster and faster, but in the end gave up, helpless. Releasing Prim's arm, it soared up to the sky and then doubled back, flying in a zig-zag pattern towards a small cabin that Prim had not noticed before.

The Mockingjay called out again, zig-zagging back and forth to the cabin.

"Do you want me to follow?" Prim asked curiously. The bird cried out again, its tone affirming what Prim had asked. Prim couldn't help but feel a bit scared now. Looking up at the sky she saw that the thunder was accompanied by lighting and a collection of small water droplets fell on her face.

"No! No not again!" Elizabeth cried.

"What? What's happening?" Prim asked, fear making her sound even younger than twelve than her small frame made her look.

"It's never good when the storm comes! The storm brings the voice!" Elizabeth shrieked, and she rolled herself into a ball on the grass, sobbing fitfully.

"Mother, what voice?" Prim asked desperately, finally becoming fully aware of the severity of her situation. She was stranded in a mysterious grove in the middle of a storm with an insane woman. Elizabeth didn't answer, but she didn't have to. With the next toll of thunder, a voice that was familiar yet difficult to place rang out over the field. _Where were you when I needed you? _The voice asked. Elizabeth cried out then, "My baby!" she screamed. _You are no mother of mine._ The voice echoed into nothing and the earth began to quake. Prim recognized the voice then as that of her sister, distorted with cruelty. She knew that Katniss would never say such a thing, but evidently, Elizabeth didn't. Prim was thrown off balance when the earths shaking surface became more violent. Elizabeth fell to her knees, Prim close behind her. Lightning struck a patch of dirt not four feet from Elizabeth's leg and both women shrieked.

"This is how it always happens!" Elizabeth was crying.

"Mother, we have to get inside!" Prim yelled, and she began to drag her mother towards the cabin.

"No! I can't go there!" Elizabeth wailed. She wiggled her arm free of Prim's grip and took off across the field. To Prims terror, the once endless field was now situated on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Elizabeth reached the edge in a moment's time, catching her balance just barely. Prim ran to her side.

"Why can't we go to the house?" Prim asked desperately.

"Because," Elizabeth wheezed, "It will take us home."

"It will! Then why aren't we leaving?" Prim exclaimed. "We have to get out of here!"

"No! I can't go back there. Not yet. I just got here!"

"You have to come home now! Please don't make us stay here!"

"No, it's okay Prim. Katniss always comes and gets me when it's time to leave. First there is the field, then the bird, then the thunder and lightning start. Then the cabin appears and the earth starts to quake and I always run to the edge and then next, I fall and-" Elizabeth's words cut into a sharp scream when the ground beneath her collapsed and she fell, catching the lip of the cliff just in time. Prim shrieked, watching her mother dangle precariously off the side of a cliff. She knelt down and began to tug at Elizabeth's arms, trying to pull her up.

"No! Katniss will save me, and then we can go home." Elizabeth said calmly. The earth shook again, and one of Elizabeth's hands shook free. Prim gasped, but Elizabeth seemed at ease.

"Mother, this is insane! We have to leave, let me help you!"

"No! Katniss will help. She always saves me!"

"Katniss isn't coming! She left to the games."

Elizabeth's calm reserved faded instantly. The look on her face was that of realization and then a spark of panic traveled between the two Everdeens. She struggled to swing her fallen arm back onto the ledge, grabbing desperately at Prims offered hands. The earth trembled again, and Prim lost her footing, sending Elizabeth and herself downward several inches. The Mockingjay from before flew high over head and cried a tune of victory. Suddenly indescribably inspired, Prim found the strength to hoist Elizabeth onto the ledge. With out need for telling, Elizabeth grabbed Prim's hand and the two headed quickly to the cabin. Prim threw the door open and stepped inside.

Prim woke in a cold sweat, unable to shake the dream she had been having. Elizabeth stirred beside her, opening her eyes momentarily before turning over and falling asleep once more. Somewhere outside, a mockingjay called out a comforting tune, and Prim went back to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that out there somewhere, Katniss was thinking of her, wishing for her safety. As for Elizabeth, Prim was in charge now, and the two women would need to figure out how to survive without their common rock.

**OKAY SO I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH OF THAT MADE SENSE. IT WAS WRITTEN OVER A SPAN OF DAYS, SO I TEND TO GET MIXED UP. ALSO, I KNOW IT WAS BY FAR NOT ONE OF THE BEST THIRD PERSON POVS EVER, BUT IT WAS MY FIRST AND I WOULD LIKE TO THINK THAT FAN FICTION IS HERE TO ENCOURAGE US TO TRY NEW THINGS AND TEST OUR BOUNDRIES. CONSIDER MINE TESTED. PLEASE REVIEW EVEN IF YOU THOUGHT IT WAS DREADFUL. JUST BE CONSTRUTIVE AND I WON'T HAVE TO TRACK YOU DOWN AND BEAT YOU =D ~Summer**


	6. Elizabeth

**I OWN NOTHING. THIS ONE ISN'T A DREAM. I DON'T KNOW ELIZABETH WELL ENOUGH TO KNOW HOW SHE DREAMS, OR THINKS, FOR THAT MATTER. BUT I FELT LIKE I NEEDED TO WRITE ONE FOR HER. IT'S MORE LIKE THE REAPING FROM HER PONIT OF VIEW. GET ME? HERE YA GO. ELIZABETH'S "SPARK":**

It's every mother's worst nightmare, their child being chosen for the reaping. What words of comfort can be offered when a child is tossed into an arena to fight for their lives? I can only pray that neither of my daughters is ever chosen, like I do every year. I can only hope that he is watching out for them…

I don't know why I try to fool myself though, considering Katniss has put her name into the reaping more times this year than I want to know about. I don't know what I would do without her, and I thank my stars that Prim has only put her name in once. I look around me at all of the other parents of potential tributes, my heart going out to each of them. It won't be one of my girls. It can't be. Whoever it is that gave me my family has already taken my husband. They wouldn't dare take my child.

These are the lies I tell myself every year to keep from falling apart; to keep from going back to the moment where I gave up. I fear that Katniss will never forgive me for the way I…shut down. I close my eyes and hope against the odds that she will have all the time in the world to forgive me. Finally, the murmuring crowd quiets and Effie Trinket takes the stand. She is babbling on, repeating the same but slightly-varied speech that she gives every year. May the odds be in your favor… This is meant to punish you…Aren't you excited? I scan the crowd for my daughters, and find Prim, her head turned towards me, her eyes wide. She's scared. I give her a weak smile; try to force it to reach my eyes.

But I can't. Why can't I? Every year Prim looks to me for comfort, to reassure her that everything will be fine, that our small family will not become smaller. Every year I fulfill this one motherly task perfectly, but this year…Why can't I? A spark of fear ignites in my heart. My motherly intuition, neglected as it may be, has me itching to snatch Prim up and flee with her. But it's nothing. Her name is one of thousands. My baby is safe. My girls are going to come home with me twenty minutes from now. We will give a moment of silent good wishes for those chosen and we will eat the meal that Katniss has provided. Then Katniss will go off to celebrate the rest of the night with Gale, and Prim will stay home with me.

She will help me clean up dinner. She will help me turn down the beds. She will sit with me by the fire and I will braid her hair for tomorrow's school day. We will talk about the reaping, and about how Gale and Katniss would make a lovely couple. We will discuss life and life's lessons, and for a moment I will feel like a mother. Those moments are rare and fleeting, but I live fore them. Effie Trinket reaches into the bowl with the girls names in it, and Prim looks back at me again. This time I can smile at her with confidence. It's not her, it's not Katniss. It can't be, because today I feel like a mother. Today I feel—

"Primrose Everdeen!"

1…2…3…the seconds tick by as I assess the situation. Breath in…breath out…breath in…and scream. A strangled cry leaves my lips as the spark in my heart turns into a full fledged flame, eating away at me from the inside. No one hears my scream though, because someone else has caused a commotion. Someone is crying out Prim's name. The crowd parts as a figure runs to the stage. I can only see the top of a head; a head that has an artistic braid masterfully knotted at the top. Katniss.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

This is every mothers worst nightmare, even if the mother is me and I'm not very good at it. I daftly say Katniss's name, releasing a breath I had not purposely held. Black spots blur my vision, and the baker catches me as I fall to the ground.

**OKAY SO IT WASN'T A DREAM, AND I DON'T KNOW ELIZABETH WELL ENOUGH TO KNOW HOW SHE WOULD TRULY HANDLE THE SITUATION, BUT I FEEL RIGHT ABOUT THIS, SO HERE IT IS. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (I KNOW THAT BEGGING IS AN UNATTRACTIVE QUALITY, BUT I'M NOT A VERY ATTRACTIVE PERSON, SO THERE YA GO…) REVIEW. IT'S THE ONLY WAY THAT I KNOW WEATHER OR NOT TO KEEP WRITING-WEATHER OR NOT I'M ACCOMPLISHING MY GOALS.**


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